Agent Mom

A baby we met last year in an orphanage in Ethiopia.

Since we decided to adopt 18 months ago, I’ve often been surprised at peoples’ responses. Many times we hear “Oh, that’s so great. I sure could never do that” or “I’m not called to adoption” or something similar. It’s as if people assume we’ve become official adoption recruiters and they are set to defend their “adoption-less” family. I’ve been careful to say that God clearly called our family to this journey. That’s all.

On a recent trip to Haiti, I visited an orphanage full of children. It was the first time I had been in an orphanage since our sons came home last summer. Suddenly, across the world from my son’s country in Africa, I was face-to-face with a hundred other Judahs and Levis. Precious children, each in need of a loving family. As I looked in their faces, I had to believe that God has a plan for their lives. With approximately 2 billion Christians in the world (“Christian” in this instance is a loose term, I know) and  approximately 147 million orphans, the numbers don’t add up to me. Maybe everyone isn’t called to adoption. But I can’t help but wonder why God wasn’t calling a follower – maybe a family in the US, or in Europe, or even a Christian Haitian family – to change the future for just one of these children.

I wonder a lot what would have happened to my boys if we hadn’t decided to answer the call to adopt, and believe me, there were times I wasn’t positive we could do it. I’m not sure if another family would have stepped in, or if our disobedience would have meant a hopeless future for my little guys. I don’t know the theologically correct answer, but I’m glad we’ll never know.

Just as often as people defend their right not to adopt, I also have people say “I think that’s something we’d love to do someday.” To which I usually politely reply, “It was an amazing experience for us.” But just once, I’d like to shock somebody and say, “Stop thinking, start praying and get going.” Ask God if there is a child somewhere in the world, maybe even in your back yard, who he has assigned to you. Could it be that he’s calling Christians, and we’re not hearing?

Two girls in a rural Haitian orphanage with lunch (two pieces of bread brought by UN soldiers) and wearing new clothes recently given to them from a visiting missions team

I just returned from Haiti after 5 days doing video production work for an amazing organization, KORE Foundation. This year I’ve had the opportunity to travel to Ethiopia and Haiti, seeing extremely rough conditions and unimaginable poverty. With each trip, I get a jolt of reality. While it’s not my reality, I’m faced with the reality that the majority of the world doesn’t know my life. The stats are staggering and we’ve all heard them:

• 22,000 children die each day due to poverty.
• At least 80% of humanity lives on less than $10 a day.
• Almost half the world — over three billion people — live on less than $2.50 a day.
• The average Haitian eats only one meal a day, meaning many do not eat.
• 70% of Haitians do not have electricity.
• 90% of Haitians do not have running water.
• 80% of Haitians lack adequate sanitation.

But as big as the numbers are, the statistics are hard to grasp. We don’t see it, so we can’t believe it. It isn’t until I see it firsthand as I did this week. I don’t get it until I see a child in an orphanage pumping water from a shallow, contaminated well and drinking water that is so dark you can’t see through it. When I hold an orphan who is very sick and has been lying alone for hours on a piece of plywood that is his bed. With no medicine available, no parents to rush him to the ER, he is alone. When I hold that child, I really get the statistic of 147 million orphans in the world. The one face makes the statistic real.

A tiny baby girl at a Haitian orphanage. At 8 months, she was nearly the weight of my newborn babies.

I’ve had these experiences numerous times in life. I come home and I hold my kids close. I give a little extra to my favorite causes. I am truly grateful for what I have. But inevitably, life takes over and I forget. I start to think about the things I want. I feel sorry for myself when I don’t have “enough.” I lose perspective.

I’m always grateful to have a fresh dose of a new reality. But I don’t want to lose it. I want to model for my children what it means to live a selfless life. I want to be grateful that I live a reality that most people will never experience.

How do you keep a perspective of gratitude when the world we live in fights to draw us back to selfishness and entitlement?

We’re home. A little over a week ago, we walked past airport security to a huge group of family and friends. We were so relieved, exhausted, happy and proud to introduce everyone to our little guys. We felt like we’d reached the finish line.

But the finish line was very much the starting gate. I’d be remiss if I ended our adoption journey with the joy of coming home. Our journey has just begun. And just like I’ve said many times the last year – adoption is not for the faint of heart. Bringing home two toddlers from a different culture, who aren’t used to being in a family setting, and who don’t speak your language is the greatest reward and the greatest challenge I’ve ever faced.

Judah talking on his phone.

I have the feeling we’ll look back at these first few months as the “survival period.” As hours and days pass, we’re celebrating the small things. Here are a few of our family victories from our first week as a family of 6:

1. Our toddlers’ hitting and spitting is on the decline.

2. We’ve all gotten out of bed every morning.

3. My daughters are fascinated with the new boys in our home. They want to help with everything from feeding to stinky diapers. Not sure how long this will last…but for now, it’s cause for celebration.

4. Nobody has missed a meal.

5. The boys are settling into a routine – they know where they sit at our table, where they sleep, when it is bathtime, etc. Structure is our friend!

6. Ceiling fans and cars are huge hits. Judah (age 2) notices the ceiling fan every time he walks into a new room, and Levi (age 1) is in car overload whenever we leave the house. When we drove downtown yesterday, he pointed out each and every car on the interstate during our 30 minute drive.

7. The full-fledged toddler temper tantrums (think Super Nanny here) that were so prevalent the first few days are almost non-existent.

8. Bedtime is easier. Now rather than leaving his bed 30 or 40 times before falling asleep, our 2-yr-old just stands on his toddler bed and yells at us in Amharic before lying down. I’m so glad I don’t understand what he’s saying.

9. Our tiny wiener dog no longer strikes fear and panic in my boys. They can tolerate seeing him through the glass door without screaming. Maybe someday we’ll even be able to let him back inside.

10. Joel and I have teamed up. With four kids in the home, we’re now outnumbered. We decided the only way we’re going to make it out alive is to stick together.

Thanks for caring about our family. Adoption isn’t all sunshine, roses and lullabies. It’s tough. It’s frustrating. And it’s challenging. But it’s also the way God chose to bring together our family, and we wouldn’t trade this for anything.

This week I enjoyed an evening with SafeWorld Nexus as they launch a project to build a maternity care center for women in Haiti. During that event, Executive Director Matt Chambers shared a quote that went something like this…. “You say you love the poor. What are their names?” Which struck me…hard. To “know their names” indicates commitment. It requires conversation, involvement, compassion, and (gulp) time.

Ashli feeding two babies at the orphanage

We’ll be heading back to Ethiopia soon and as we travel we’ll be taking supplies desperately needed by children in the capital city. Last year my friend Ashli York (read Ashli’s story) left her comfortable life in Franklin, TN to live among the poor in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Just recently, she’s stepped in to help an orphanage in critical need. There are many babies there, some who haven’t made it, and many more who are malnourished (the pictures of their swollen bellies are hard to look at) and just beginning to thrive under Ashli’s care.

I contacted Ashli and asked her what I could bring. She quickly sent me a list (basically every thing you could imagine to care for babies, including diapers and formula) and I’m collecting as much as I can to carry with us. My sister and brother-in-law will be joining us and we’ve all committed to pack light. We’re hoping to take four suitcases of donations with us – up to 200 pounds of supplies!

If you’d like to help, you can:

1. Bring supplies to me in the next week. Email me at slitton (at) agroup (dot) com for information or a list of needs.

2. Make a donation via my PayPal account and designate it for Orphanage Donation. I’ll use these funds to purchase items needed by the orphanage.

I can’t wait to hold and kiss and love these babies. I want to tell them they haven’t been forgotten. I want to know their names.

This year Mother’s Day will be different. While celebrating with my sweet daughters, I can’t help but feel something is missing. In March we traveled to Ethiopia to spend a week with our sons. I’d read all the adoption books and knew that for many the attachment process takes time. But for me, the moment I picked up my boys, it felt no less amazing or significant than when a doctor placed a screaming newborn in my arms. They were MY SONS!

Levi (age 1.5) and Judah (age 2.5)

And now 8 weeks later, we continue to wait for approval to return to Ethiopia and bring them home. So this year I celebrate with two girls, thank God for two boys half a world away, and have faith that God is watching over them even when I can’t.

KISSES IN THE WIND (The Waiting Child’s Lullabye)

I hold you in my heart and touch you in my dreams.
You are here each day with me, at least that’s how it seems.

I know you wonder where we are… what’s taking us so long.
But remember child, I love you so and God will keep you strong.

Now go outside and feel the breeze and let it touch your skin…
Because tonight, just as always, I blow you kisses in the wind.

May God hold you in His hand until I can be with you.
I promise you, my darling, I’m doing all that I can do.

Very soon, you’ll have a family for real, not just pretend.
But for tonight, just as always, I blow you kisses in the wind.

May God wrap you in His arms and hold you very tight.
And let the angels bring the kisses that I send to you each night.

by Pamela Durkota, written for Josh

We leave in just a little over a week for our first trip to Africa. As the next few months unfold, I’ll be posting updates on our adoption blog. Join us there as we share the highs and lows of our journey.

Here are a few recent posts:

Court Date

The Bottom Line: Funding an Adoption

Sad Reality

As one of our adoption requirements, we’ve completed a detailed and rigorous “inspection” process. From medical records and tests to long questionnaires about faith, family and adoption, we’ve totally opened up our lives and our family to a social worker. At the end, her job is to determine whether we are fit to be parents. Had we begun this process eight years ago, it might not have been so stressful. But the thought of someone deciding whether you should be a parent…when you already have two children…is a little intimidating.

After interviews, paperwork, and meetings, we were ready for our last step – the home visit. At this visit the social worker would meet our children, talk with them and tour our home. I honestly was not that worried. My kids are really good kids! They’re excited about the adoption and couldn’t wait for the visit. Little did I realize that “excitement” in a 7 and 3 year old can manifest itself in many ways. Here a few highlights:

• Our 3-yr-old Macy decided she wanted to strip off her clothes and put on her Cinderella dress – RIGHT NOW! I had said no…so as a good parent I had to carry through. Which meant I had to drag her kicking, screaming and clothesless out of the room. Great start to the visit.

• When asked if she liked to play outside, our 3-yr-old said, “I can’t go outside because I don’t want to step in all the dog poop.” Huh??

• Somehow when the social worker asked our girls to show her their rooms, they heard, “Please race through the house, spring off the back of the couch, and then jump on your beds. Then rip the covers off the beds and hide under them.”

• We had just returned from vacation and I suggested that the girls go get the pictures to show her. This turned into an all-out war as my girls returned each holding onto one side of a photo. They pulled and screamed until the younger let go, flying back into a shelf and hitting her head.

• I think the culmination was this exchange:

Worker: “Wow! Your home is so nice and neat. Mine isn’t usually this clean.”

Abby: “Yeah – neither is ours.”

What can I say? It was a MEMORABLE experience. And our very kind social worker told us at the end that we were a lovely family and she would approve us for up to two more children. We’re moving forward in faith…

Honestly, would you have been so kind?

“As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you;” Isaiah 66:13

I’ve received so much encouragement since I shared a couple weeks ago about our upcoming adoption of a little boy from Ethiopia. So many people want to know what they can do to help. We’re working through budgets, documents, and details now, but above all I’m asking for prayer. Every night as I lay down, I am overwhelmed with the realization that I have a son across the world in Africa. I don’t know who he is yet, but I know he’s there. And whatever terrible situation occurs (death of parents, family unable to feed their children, abandonment) to cause him to be an orphan,  it is likely happening now.

Orphanage in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

Pete Wilson, in his book Plan B, says “The greatest of all illusions is the illusion of control.” As a mother, I’ve always intended to put my children’s well-being in God’s hands. But the truth is, from pregnancy on, I’ve felt responsible for feeding them, protecting them, and loving them. I’ve been under the illusion of control when it comes to my family. Now, as we follow a very God-directed plan to adopt from Africa, there is no more illusion that I can protect all my children. As I pray each night for our son, I truly put my child in God’s care.

So tonight as you tuck your children into bed, I’d love for you to say a prayer for a little boy in Ethiopia who is resting in the hands of God.

There are an estimated 147 million orphans in the world.

Last fall I shared that God was asking me for full submission. Submit my plans, submit my tendency to control. I didn’t know what, but I knew something was coming.

Now I know…we’re going to Africa, to Ethiopia.  Actually, we’ll be going twice next year. On the second trip, we’ll be bringing home a new family member….our son.

Believe me, I can tell you all the reasons this makes no sense. In my conversations with God, I tried to use my analytics, my persuasion, even my ability to negotiate. It’s funny how skills that are so highly valued in the business world are so totally useless with the Lord.

I told him surely he’d rather ask this of my great stay-at-home mom friends. He told me that he didn’t ask to use Aaron, he asked Moses to go.

I told him that it wouldn’t be smart…think of all the unknowns. What if this had a negative impact on my two beautiful, happy, healthy girls? As a parent, it wouldn’t be responsible. He told me that he asked Abraham to lay everything on the altar…even his children.

So I can tell you all the reasons this makes no sense, but I can tell you one reason that it does….God asked us to. So we’re going. We’re scared. We’re excited. We’re humbled that God would use us in this way. Above all, we’re not in control, and it’s so much better that way.